


Wisconsin

by sageness



Category: due South
Genre: Canon - TV, Community: highwaymiles, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-02
Updated: 2006-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageness/pseuds/sageness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray pulled into the first decent motel he saw between the local police division and the interstate and got them a room. "This okay?" he asked Fraser as an afterthought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wisconsin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Highwaymiles](http://community.livejournal.com/highwaymiles/). Thanks to Aristide, Tx_Tart, &amp; JustBreathe80 for the betas!

It took hours for Ray and Fraser to give their preliminary reports, since Illinois was looking for charges on murder and conspiracy, while the Feds were doing their song and dance over the Federal Reserve heist.

They got grilled once by Welsh and a couple of suits, and then it was all Fraser speed-typing. Dead body, treasure map, ghost ship, the Henry Allen resting on the bottom of the lake, the Wailing Yankee, the toxic waste, the gold both onboard and being salvaged from the bottom of the lake, the submersible, the fake-Bounty, the drift from American waters into Canadian (and here things got hung up a bit while Fraser attested to currents, water speed, cargo weight, and map coordinates), where which crimes were committed, who was going to be stuck with the toxic waste, and worst of all, who held jurisdiction over what.

It looked to Ray like Welsh, Thatcher, the Feds and the local PD were going to be hashing out the details all night, but it became clear pretty quick that there wouldn't be anything else for him and Fraser to do until the Feds showed up at the 27th wanting them to elaborate on their reports. And that could wait until tomorrow.

Around eleven, they finally got Welsh and the Ice Queen's blessing to spring Ray's unmarked car from the Sault Ste. Marie police impound and get out of there. Ray figured it would be six hours of nighttime driving from there, down the length of Wisconsin, back to Chicago, the Consulate, and then finally his own bed in his own apartment to sleep the sleep of the just. He yawned enormously as Fraser settled into the seat next to him and realized that after this long-ass day, no way was a six-hour drive going to happen.

Ray pulled into the first decent motel he saw between the local police division and the interstate and got them a room. "This okay?" he asked Fraser as an afterthought. They were standing at the open trunk of the Ford, pulling out the gym bags with the emergency change of clothes they'd begun keeping there since their second Fraser-related nosedive into Lake Michigan.

"A good idea, Ray," Fraser said with a yawn. "I suspect we're both too tired to drive."

Ray grabbed a shower, turning the water up as hot as he could stand. He'd taken a few whacks and now he had some bruises, plus he was sore as hell from all the swimming. He brushed his teeth and looked himself over in the mirror. There was a dark spot on his ribs that would probably be black in the morning, but he could breathe okay so chances were they weren't cracked. Then he put on a pair of clean briefs and hoped it wouldn't get too cold. He had an old pair of jeans, extra socks, and a couple of shirts, but he never thought to pack sweats when he put the bag together.

It hit him suddenly that his good leather jacket was in his locker on the Henry Allen, which was now at the bottom of Lake Superior, along with his cell phone. But at least he had his wallet. It was still soggy and the motel clerk had looked at him funny when he handed over a damp Vecchio ID and Visa card, but she didn't say anything.

Fraser was already asleep when Ray finished in the bathroom, laid out neatly on top of the covers like a corpse or something. Freak. Ray slapped Fraser's socked foot and said, "All done," to wake him up. Then he burrowed under the covers of the other bed and dropped off to sleep before Fraser even closed the bathroom door.

*

In the morning, they ate breakfast at the greasy spoon next door, and then they were on their way. Fraser was unusually quiet and his face was drawn.

"You sleep bad?" Ray asked him, half-expecting a treatise on the relative quality of motel mattresses, but Fraser only shook his head.

Ray began to worry. Maybe Fraser was having second thoughts. Things always looked different after a night's sleep, right?

He asked one too many times if Fraser was okay, which he wouldn't have had to do if Fraser hadn't been stuck at being 'fine', and when Fraser finally got unstuck he snapped, "Really, Ray, have you suffered some kind of sudden hearing impairment?" And that? That was more than he wanted to deal with, but it was also exactly the same bullshit he thought they'd worked out when they were stuck inside the little mini-sub, and that pissed Ray off.

They were still several hours away from the Wisconsin-Illinois border, but Ray saw a sign for a state forest ahead and took the turn. Next to him, Fraser went stiff as a board but didn't say anything as Ray handed over five bucks for a day pass. The guy in the booth handed over a map of the park along with the dashboard tag, and Ray thanked him kindly. Fraser didn't say anything at all.

Ray drove around the park until they reached a picnic area on the western shore of Lake Michigan. Being mid-morning on a weekday, the place was deserted. It was nice, so Ray got out and took a seat on top of a picnic table. The sun was bright in his face and a cool wind was ruffling his hair; it was a little like standing on the deck of the Bounty had been yesterday…except now things were all tense again.

At length, Fraser got out of the car and joined him, but didn't say anything. Sunlight glittered on the water, and the wind was blowing hard enough to move the swings on the kids' playground and kick up some waves further out. The sky was blue and perfect, and Ray figured if Fraser decided to open his mouth, he'd probably say a storm was coming. But Fraser didn't, and Ray sat in silence, squinting at the sky, and watched a bunch of birds swoop up and down on the breeze.

Eventually, like he couldn't help himself, Fraser cleared his throat and said, "Is everything all right, Ray?"

Ray turned his head and got a look at Fraser's face, genuinely hoping Fraser was making some kind of bad joke there, because would he have stopped at all if everything was all right? But Fraser was back in full Mountie-mode already: all logic, no instinct, and about ten seconds away from royally pissing Ray off all over again.

"So I guess this isn't finished," Ray said before Fraser could start.

"What—"

"You're having second thoughts about taking the transfer. I know it, I can tell."

Fraser's eyebrows went up and he folded his arms over his chest. "I suppose your instincts led you to that conclusion?"

"Nice one, Frase. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong."

"Oh yeah? Well, I don't think so."

"Ray, I think I know my own mind well enough to be certain of my decision regarding the transfer. However, I do think you may be projecting your own doubts—"

"Look, you're the one being all weird and quiet and shit. I was fine—"

"Fine…"

"Fine!" Ray repeated, voice rising. "Fine with working things out and all, but you - you're giving me vibes like I don't know what." Fraser did that head-tilt thing he always did when he was about to start lecturing on illogical thought processes, but Ray kept right on going. "Maybe it's the thing with the drift. Or being close enough for you to see home across the channel, maybe that's it, I don't know. All I know is—"

"Southern Ontario is hardly what I would call 'home', Ray," Fraser said in a tight voice.

"You know what I mean."

"I do, yes," he said stonily, "but I don't believe you do."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ray shouted, anger edging into his voice.

"Simply that you don't know anything about where I'm from."

"Oh really," Ray said. "I know about the bear-wrestling, otter-tossing guy who gave you that scar, I know about your crazy friend who had to be rolled in the snow, I know about you chasing that fish-bomber across half the country on foot, I know about you camping out inside that dead caribou, and all your damned pemmican, and—"

"That isn't—"

"No?"

"No."

"I don't believe you," Ray said, shaking his head. "Fuck, this is just like a fucking nightmare of a morning after, except for not even getting laid first."

Fraser looked up, startled, and Ray saw something like fear in Fraser's eyes before the mask snapped back into place.

Fuck.

Fraser sighed and walked down to the shore, gazing out at the water like he expected the Bounty replica to show up, even though it wasn't even the right lake.

Ray didn't bother going after him. He was too busy thinking about all the bullshit they'd been through the past week. Punching each other, Jesus Christ. It was one thing to threaten to kick someone in the head, but hitting your best friend. The constant bitching at each other, and no amount of shouting, "Shut up and hear me, damn it!" did any good. Then the new and wildly bizarre ways Fraser had endangered his life only yesterday. Not to mention the new and wildly bizarre ways in which he'd saved it. Especially the really scary one. And Ray knew it was only air, just like any lifeguard would do at the pool in the summer if he had to, he knew that. And yet.

And yet, for one moment, under five hundred feet of water, trapped inside a sinking ship, they were good again. They were fine. Then things sucked some more, but there was another moment in the mini-submersible, with the small of Fraser's back pressed close between Ray's legs…the thing was sweltering hot and nothing like sexy, but they could hardly have been closer without actual penetration happening.

And after a year of holding Ray at arm's length, that was when Fraser finally trusted him. Finally.

Several minutes passed. Ray sat and watched Fraser. The wind was doing its best to mess up his hair, despite the hair gel Ray had lent him in the motel that morning. He was wearing an off-white henley, jeans, and hiking boots, and he looked good like that, like he could be a regular guy somewhere – prettier than most, sure, but still just a guy. Like someone Ray could reach, somebody touchable.

But then Fraser turned and Ray could see the tension in his jaw, all the pent-up frustration tangible under his skin. Fraser climbed the short, sandy shore back to the grass, approached Ray, and jerked his chin toward the car like he knew Ray was ready. He wasn't wrong.

They got in and Ray put the key in the ignition, but he didn't turn it. "I thought you said it didn't change anything," Ray said, staring straight ahead out the windshield.

"The buddy-breathing? It didn't," Fraser replied after a moment.

"Then how come things feel different?"

"I couldn't very well let you drown, now could I?"

Ray slanted his eyes toward Fraser. Like he couldn't tell a deflection after all this time together. "What aren't you saying?"

"Can't we just go home?"

"No, I don't think so. This isn't that simple."

"Ray—"

"You don't want to take the transfer, is that right?" Ray asked.

"Correct."

"You do want to continue being partners with me."

Fraser stared out through the windshield. "Yes."

"And the whole thing where you had your mouth on mine didn't change anything."

"At the time, no."

"What does that mean?"

Fraser's eyes flashed back to Ray. "Well, obviously, if I were going to attempt to seduce you, it wouldn't be while trapped underwater in a sinking ship, now would it?"

Something in Ray's stomach lurched. Fraser being sarcastic wasn't new, but Fraser being sarcastic about seducing him hit too damned close to the mark. Ray forced a weak laugh. "I wouldn't put it past you."

And all of a sudden Fraser was leaning across the seat and pulling him into a kiss. Fraser's mouth was hot against his, his tongue insistent, taking advantage of Ray's surprise and kissing the hell out of him.

When Fraser pulled away, his lips were red and wet and his eyes were burning. Ray'd never seen him like this before. Or, well, only when he was on an adrenaline high and about to take another stupid risk, usually involving Ray's life.

"Fraser," Ray said, voice unsteady.

"You never could just leave well enough alone, could you?" Fraser licked his lower lip and rubbed a hand over Ray's cheek, then scooted back over to his side of the car. "I'll accept the transfer as soon as we get back," he said in a clipped voice.

"Oh, fuck no," Ray said. "We are not doing this. I had enough of this passive-aggressive bullshit with Stella, and I am having no more of it from you, Fraser. You want something, you ask for it, you got me?" It was like one more part of the trust thing, and Fraser was going to get it, even if Ray had to beat him over the head to do it.

Fraser glanced at him, but he didn't look uncomfortable enough. He still looked mostly like he was riding his endorphin rush.

Ray waited, staring Fraser down across the seat between them. He kept staring, waiting Fraser out.

Finally Fraser said, "I see."

"So, you've noticed how I haven't thrown you out of the car or anything, right?"

"Ah, yes. I did notice that, actually." Fraser glanced out the windows and scrubbed a thumb over his eyebrow. After a moment he said, "Tell me, when should I begin this 'asking for it', as you phrase it."

"Now's good," Ray said. "Now works really well for me actually."

Fraser nodded and closed some of the distance he'd put between them. "Then I'd…"

"What?"

"Ray…" Fraser trailed off, flushing.

Ray touched Fraser's arm, feeling the warm skin where his sleeves were pushed up. He stroked a thumb over Fraser's wrist and said, "Just ask me. It's easy."

Fraser took a breath and murmured, "May I kiss you again?"

"Yeah, okay. Here," Ray said, scooting toward Fraser. The steering wheel was a bitch, but Fraser wasn't waiting. Now he was all mouth and hands, licking and sucking at Ray's tongue, holding his head at the angle he wanted it.

Ray grabbed a handful of Fraser's shirt and pulled it out of his jeans. He needed to feel skin, to touch the guy underneath. At the same time, Fraser's hand slipped down Ray's chest and rubbed over a nipple, down to his belly, squeezing his ribcage a little and making him gasp when he found the bruise. Ray moaned into Fraser's mouth and Fraser pulled back, looking worried.

Ray rubbed his thumb over Fraser's lower lip, just like he'd wanted to do for months, and said, "Frase, ask me."

Fraser's eyes went a little wider and the flush in his cheeks went darker. Softly, he said, "Let me taste you? Please?" Ray shuddered, Fraser's words going straight to his balls, and the hand that was still on Ray's neck began a slow caress, thumb sliding up and down below Ray's ear.

Ray moaned softly. "Go for it."

Fraser's hands moved to Ray's jeans, one working the button and zipper, the other rubbing Ray's cock through the denim. Ray made a choked noise in his throat and then lifted his hips to shove his jeans and briefs down and out of the way. He was hard and leaking, and Fraser's mouth was getting closer, closer, and fuck. "Fuck, I've dreamed of this," he said, half out of his head as Fraser's mouth enveloped him.

His right hand landed on Fraser's shoulder and stroked. Fraser made a pleased-sounding hum around his cock, buzzing on the head where it was mashed against the back of Fraser's throat. Ray groaned and Fraser started moving, sliding his mouth up and down Ray's cock.

It was amazing, and it was broad daylight in a public park and Ray couldn't let go completely because they could get busted for public lewdness at any fucking minute, so his eyes were open, watching for park rangers, betting so much on it being not even lunchtime in the middle of the week.

Then Fraser started rolling Ray's balls in his hand, slipped a wet finger behind - going further back and circling. "Fuck!" Ray cried, starting to come way before he wanted to, and Fraser's answering groan only made it better.

Ray panted for breath, and after a long, luxurious moment of gently holding Ray's cock in his mouth, Fraser sat up, glancing out the windows and licking his lips clean. Ray realized Fraser had swallowed – of course he'd swallowed – and yanked him over into a fierce, possessive kiss.

His left hand slid down and found Fraser's hand grinding against the front of his own pants. Ray broke the kiss, sucking the saliva trail from his lower lip. Ray pressed his cheek against Fraser's and rubbed their stubble together. "Ask, damn it. Ask me."

"Ray…" Fraser groaned, incoherent.

"Say it," Ray murmured into Fraser's ear. "Tell me you want me to suck your cock."

"Ray, God."

Ray leaned back and opened Fraser's jeans so just the tip of his erection poked out. He gave him a hard stroke through the rough fabric. "Say, 'Suck my cock, Ray.' If you want it, say it." Not that anything was going to stop Ray at this point, but Fraser had better ask and fast.

Fraser groaned and then it was all happening at once. The words were coming out in a husky voice Ray hardly recognized, and Fraser was arching up, shoving his clothing down. "Do it," he said, hand clutching at Ray's shoulder. "Suck my cock, Ray. I want you to make me come. Make me come."

Then Ray had him, deep, and Fraser's dick felt just like he always knew it would, filling his mouth, nudging into his throat. So good and Fraser's hand in his hair was soft, petting, not pushing, and then, too fast, he was spurting hot, salty come and Ray was swallowing it down, thinking how different it tasted from his own.

A moment later, Fraser was hauling Ray up for a kiss, as long and hot and dirty as before. "So fucking good," Ray said when they parted, and Fraser made a blissed-out noise of agreement.

Across the way, Ray saw a Park Service truck rounding the bend of the lakeshore road. Fraser pulled his jeans back up and Ray finished fastening his own. They look a little flushed, but okay; the car reeked of sex, though, so Ray turned the key in the ignition and let the AC blow over them.

"When we get back—"

"Will you invite me to your apartment?"

"What?"

"When we get back, will you invite me to your apartment?" Fraser said, and licked his lower lip.

"You're asking." Ray grinned.

"Yes, Ray, that I am."


End file.
